


Evenings

by skywardeleven



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Internal Monologue, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywardeleven/pseuds/skywardeleven
Summary: Carlos was everything Lando needed. And for one sweet moment, Lando had felt that he was everything that Carlos needed too.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Evenings

He was still waiting for that hand to reach to him. Longing for that light touch in his shoulders. That embrace that kept him safe. That comfortable silence that broke the wall that he was so used to build around him during the day. That feeling of completeness, that reassurance. The warmth that calmed him down.

Lando was trying to cover the emptiness with loud music. The strong beats had worked for a while, allowing him to concentrate on the task at hand, drowning his inner voice. That voice that was telling him that he was not enough, that he would never find happiness again. It was a constant battle.

He was quite proud of how he had managed to find the will to wake up that morning and go through a day of meetings, photoshoots, training and more meetings. Lando had been there, awake, listening and as engaging as someone with the weight of emptiness can be. He had done everything that was expected of him, and that was a victory, a big step. He was doing fine.

And then the day had finished, the commitments had been dealt with and it was time to go back home. To his empty home. The same flat that had seen him excited, hopeful, ecstatic and complete. He could remember everything so clearly… the nerves in the beginning, the mixed feelings (was he developing a crush? he could not be developing a crush, surely, not with his teammate), the acceptance and automatic urge to abandon the idea. The day that he realised he had to do something about it, and it was either going all in or forgetting about it. The awkward conversation trying to tell Carlos how he felt; hands sweating, voice cracking, incoherent words (how was he the native english speaker?). The pure bliss when Carlos hugged him afterwards. That first kiss, so sweet, so scared, so full of promise.

And now the sofa was empty, the blanket all wrinkled hanging from a corner, with no one that cared enough to fold it. An old bowl sitting in the table, crumbs still waiting to be washed. Everything had been easier to take care of when there was someone else to do it for. When Carlos would pout at him with a disappointed look if he was being careless. When he would curse him in spanish after stumbling with something left on the floor. When he would lift him up and throw him on the bed, faking rage but with a smile behind his eyes.

The beginning had been the sweetest months ever. Those shy kisses in the beginning, so unsure and full of doubt, so insecure. But they had built the confidence, practiced all they wanted and more. First days, first sleepovers, first attempts to cook for each other, first cringe reactions to an unnecessary romantic and clingy comment. But how enjoyable that was, how relieving to be able to not hide behind a media façade.

Being happy with each other meant more eagerness on track. More belief in their common project. More willingness to beat each other on track, to keep pushing, to be better. For themselves, for each other, for the team that had shaped so quickly around them. It motivated them to have a good race, to share the thrill afterwards, to thrive in those strong embraces, tracksuits still on and adrenaline pumping in their veins, almost audible. And it was necessary in the bad days. To remind each other that they were strong, that they would come back. Together.

How do you get over that? He still had the racing, the thrill, the danger, the speed. But once out of the car, Carlos was gone. Gone to his other teammates, his mechanics, his engineers. Gone with other drivers, with friends and family. And Lando had those too, he had people joining him wherever he went. And that was nice and all. But it was not enough.

He had cried that day. Was Carlos really breaking up with him? He was listening to the words, but his brain could not process them. Carlos seemed to be explaining something, some half hearted excuse. They were perfect for each other, how could he not see that? Lando had never met anyone with whom he could be himself. No covers were needed in between them. He could be honest, and childish, without feeling guilty because of it. They took out the best of each other on track, and they could be together for a week without growing tired of each other, going out for food, playing golf, playing videogames, watching movies. Carlos was everything Lando needed. And for one sweet moment, Lando had felt that he was everything that Carlos needed too. But now Carlos was in front of him mumbling words that had no meaning in Lando’s brain. And then Carlos had left.

And three months later, he was still waiting for him to come back. Tired of seeing him constantly and not being able to hold his hand. Tired of seeing Carlos with a beaming smile directed at him that did not have the same meaning anymore. Tired of spending time with him, who seem so unbothered by the whole situation, so over it. He recovered the wrinkled blanket, put it over him and changed the loud music for a loud movie.

The bell rang.

Could it be…?

**Author's Note:**

> Any resemblance with real life is pure coincidence.   
> This is basically just me dealing with my feelings :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
